James x Reader | Pokemon | - | REWRITE |

A Duck Walked Up To a Corner Store

"I don't need your pity, James."

"You've said that multiple times," he pointed out. "If you really didn't, you wouldn't have to announce it so frequently."

"You're just blind to social cues," you retorted. "Don't put it on me."

James opened the door to the van, standing straightly to let you into the passenger seat. 

You eyed him suspiciously. 

James smiled, as if that was what he was looking for. "Always happy to help someone in need."

"I think you're in need of a punch in the face."

"Provide it, then."

You sighed. Your body hit the passenger seat as you threw yourself onto it, but you were sure to be careful with Totodile's pokeball. 

James' smile turned into his annoying smirk. "That's what I thought."

Joining beside you in the driver's seat, James didn't seem like the type to be particularly well-versed in fine motor control in situations. Situations such as driving. Even just a minute's impression of his personality would most likely give off that he was clumsy, and while entertaining, stupid. Stupid in the way that you were stupid, sort of. The kind you embraced because you found it entertaining, but that mostly greeted itself to a tough crowd. 

Realizing that you didn't have your bag or phone with you, staring at the pokeball in your hand seemed to be the best and only way to pass the time. 

Out the window, the surroundings were quickly strewn together like the slip of a paintbrush coated in green and brown paint. The lines formed bushes in the shadows and an occasional opening of sunlight, where you could have sworn it was made hotter for even just a second. Perhaps it was the very sight that made you uncomfortable---the days only seemed to be getting hotter from here. 

James broke the silence, which for once you weren't asking him to do. "You could talk to me, you know. Unless I've pushed you to become mute."

"You're not far from it," you replied. "I'd rather stare at these same bushes forever."

"And that you will do, unless you gather enough courage to face your fears and talk to the dazzling man beside you."

"Fears? More like disgust. Where's this dazzling man?"

"You're being awfully rude to the dazzling man. Now he feels as if he's only sparkling a bit."

"Yeah, from sweat. Get off your high horse."

"If you will continue to be so crass, I have no choice but to resort to your level."

"Clown-to-clown communication. Are you sure you're not below my level?"

"Sounds like projecting to me."

"Good job on that comeback, James. If we were in sixth grade everyone would be cheering you on."

"I suppose it comes with practice."

"Too bad you're out of material."

"Yes, I suppose it is too bad. I know how much you love listening to me talk."

"You have a wonderful imagination. What else are you going to make up?"

There was silence for a moment. You counted this as a win, even though it felt a bit heavier than usual. But it wasn't feel-bad heavy, it wasn't guilt. It was more that you won, and even though that was what you wanted, it ended it nonetheless. But you would never feel too bad about ending it, because you knew James' mediocre comeback would be hiding around an obvious corner.